


Breaking Tradition

by Cyn



Category: Prince of Tennis
Genre: Drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-09-09
Updated: 2007-09-09
Packaged: 2017-10-21 19:21:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/228753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyn/pseuds/Cyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When you start breaking tradition, even the rules get questioned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breaking Tradition

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a personal monthly writing challenge and for a random meme request from a friend, using the prompt "Hooker au". Contains mentions of paying for sex and slightly kinky sexual practices.

"There's a courier outside," Niou announces, as he walks into the team club house, dropping the tennis bag he holds on one of the benches. "I wonder who it's for."

"Genichirou." It's Yanagi who answers, because no one else was going to give up that information; it's usually Yanagi who offers up the information, anyway. "He's already been in."

"You're late, Niou," comes Yukimura's singsong voice from Niou's left. "You can run a couple hundred laps. Or play a game with me."

Niou looks at his captain and friend and peer for a second; that's all it takes to weigh the decision. "It can't be Atobe, you never get this pissy when it's him." That leaves only one other; no one else from Hyoutei would be stupid enough to request Sanada.

"I'll take the laps," Niou says, and doesn't even blink when Yukimura huffs, and slams his fist against a locker.

"I hate this stupid tradition." Yukimura allows himself to pout and sulk like a child, throw fits of temper, and wallow in misery when he's around his team, because they're all in the same position he is.

"Be glad that it didn't start in middle school," Yanagi says, and carefully probes Yukimura's hand. "You have to stop slamming your hands against things when you get angry."

"The only time I do it is when this stuff goes on," Yukimura tells him and slumps against the chair.

"Which means you are hitting your hand against things far too often." Yanagi glances up. "It won't bruise but it'll be sore. Try not to do too much with it."

"It's not me who needs to worry now, is it?" Yukimura nods to him and stands up, returns to the court where he rules supreme. He doesn't have to think there, about what happens in dark shuttered rooms or moonlit verandas.

Yanagi watches him, and thinks that this isn't his best tennis, but still amazing, just in a completely different way. He burns to brightly, too quickly, and threatens to burn out on the courts, something that never happens when he's in his best form.

Of all of them, the news that awaited them in high school hit Yukimura the hardest.

"I enjoy pissing off Atobe," Oshitari purrs into Sanada's ear. "You're not my favorite."

Sanada levels a glance at him, poor at submitting; Oshitari wonders who dominates between him and Yukimura, but that's not his business, or something he particularly cares for.

It's he who has Sanada now; tied to the bed and beneath him.

That's all that matters.

"Do you think Atobe will call for you tomorrow?" Oshitari asks, and twists his fingers. Sanada groans, unable to keep back any noises, as his nipple twists. "Or wait until you've healed enough to make a good bed partner?" Oshitari pinches tighter; the rules had been easy.

And Sanada broke them.

There's no response, because they both know, and Sanada's not fool enough to actually respond; he knows the punishment for that.

"out of all of you, I like your captain the best." Oshitari drops his voice, and lowers his body, feels the resistance and still pushes, until he feels the yield. "He fights so nicely. Like a wildcat in bed. Never yielding, never giving in."

Sanada jerks, and Oshitari wonders which makes him more upset: the sex or the words about his captain.

He doesn't ask, though. It's not like he really cares.

"Is that Marui-kun?" Akutagawa exclaims, latching onto Atobe's arm and pointing. Atobe looks, sighs, and shrugs off his teammate.

"Just hire him for a night," he tells Akutagawa. "Not like you can't."

"But I don't think Marui-kun would like that." Akutagawa stares at the figure in the bakery, calm for once in the presence of his idol. "It seems wrong."

Next to him, Atobe rolls his eyes and drags Akutagawa away.

He'll buy Marui for a night, since Akutagawa seems so reluctant to do so. It's a tradition, honored by time and circumstance; no one else views it as being wrong.

The rules are simple: leave no marks, do what they wish; cause no lasting damage, give them what they paid for. Don't involve tennis.

Atobe's sure the money coming in goes to Rikkai's tennis team, but that's not directly involving tennis. It's in the bedroom that it matters, or on the courts.

Atobe feels eyes on him as he pushes Akutagawa into the waiting limo and looks up. Yukimura's there, inside the bakery, a smile on his lips and a look in his eyes that makes Atobe smirk in response.

Hyoutei has the upper hand. Atobe's not afraid.

"I want Hyoutei to make it to Regionals," Yukimura says, then shakes his head. "No. They need to be one of the invitees to Nationals. We'll defeat them there." Yukimura turns and looks at Yanagi. "Who are they playing against?"

"They're up against Ginka first."

Yukimura curls his fingers into a fist. "They'll defeat them. What matters is, who will they be playing in the final semi-finals, if they reach that?"

"It is all speculation," Yanagi begins, and stops when Yukimura looks at him, continues with the predictions. "It'll be Seigaku again. Unless a dark horse appears, but there are no rumors of schools yet."

"So we'll be up against Seigaku again, if they win?" Yukimura turns back to the window and spends time staring out at it. "Can we defeat Seigaku this year?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"As sure as one can be." Which means, Yukimura knows, Yanagi is prepared for every possibility, and then some. Yukimura smiles.

"Make sure Seigaku gets to Regionals. I don't care what it takes."

Yanagi studies Yukimura and feels a shiver run down his spine.

"WHAT. THE. HELL?" Marui exclaims, looking at the paper he holds, and shoves it toward Yanagi, who reaches out a hand.

"Akutagawa?" There's shock in Yanagi's voice, surprise: this is something no one is expecting.

"He's never done any of this before," Marui says and slumps against his locker. For once, Yanagi's glad Yukimura's not here.

"With any of us," Yagyuu says. "This is atypical for him."

"Are you sure it's him?" Niou asks. "Could be someone bought you for a gift for him."

Marui perks up at that, looks a little brighter. None of them enjoy this.

"That's probably it. Maybe it won't be that bad." Marui grins. "I hope he's got cake."

"If this is a surprise, he might not," Niou tells him. "Better bring your own. Or skip it for the evening. You're putting on a little weight there."

"Fuck you, asshole. I'm not putting on any weight." Marui grabs the paper, wads it up, and throws it at Niou, who dodges it easily. "I work out just as much as you do."

"But you eat twice what I do." Niou picks up the paper and throws it back, misses and hits Kuwahara.

Yanagi watches from the sidelines, at the laughter and amusement, and thinks. He's the only one who hears the door open, sees Yukimura walk in, Sanada right behind him. He's the only one who sees the fire that burns too brightly inside Yukimura.

"Is it tradition that only one is out for the night?" Marui asks Akutagawa that night, who only shrugs.

"You know more about it than I do," Akutagawa says. "This is the first time I've done this. Atobe was sooo awesome, doing this for me. I saw you the other day in a bakery and I think he decided to get you for me. Is the cake good?"

Marui looks at the cake he holds, then Akutagawa, and nods. "I couldn't have done better myself," he says. Might as well make him happy.

"Hey Yanagi," Marui begins the other day. "Can more than one of us get hired for the night?"

"Tell me what Akutagawa did first, then I'll tell you," Yanagi says; he'll tell Marui no matter what, but he wants to know what Akutagawa's like.

"We had cake and talked." Marui grins. "If tennis wasn't forbidden, we would have played a game. Nothing different than when we bump into each other somewhere."

"I wonder how long that'll stay like that," Yanagi murmurs, and digs out a notebook, writes down a few things. Marui stares at him for a moment, and shakes his head. This is even starting to affect Yanagi, he thinks, bringing bitterness and cynicism to the forefront, ahead of the data.

But he doesn't say anything, only repeats his question.

"Not at all. They could have all of us, if they wish," Yanagi tells him. "And more than one of them can have any one of us. They've just been nice. Beginning of the year and all."

"Kirihara?" Yukimura repeats, staring at the courier. "Atobe wants _Akaya_?"

"Actually, it was Atobe and Oshitari," the courier says; he's got orders from Atobe on what to say, what to do. That's why this was in person, not done over paper.

"Atobe and Oshitari?" It's Yanagi who speaks and Sanada who reaches out to grab Yukimura when he looks like he's about to move toward the courier, keeps him back just barely.

"What's going on?" Kirihara demands, pushing into the locker room. "I heard my name."

"Akaya, I told you to not come back in here." Yukimura speaks softly, his gaze never leaving the courier. "Get out."

"But Buchou-"

"Get out, Akaya." Yukimura's lips curl into something that pretends to be a smile, and the courier shivers; all of them can see it. Kirihara lets Kuwahara drag him out.

"They're not getting Akaya."

"Then who is going to replace him?" the courier asks; this is what Atobe knew would happen, so he is prepared. And he knows: accept nothing but the best. Accept nothing but Yukimura.

As if Yukimura knows what he is thinking, he raises his chin and smiles again, dangerously.

"I will."

The courier doesn't see it, but Sanada's hands tighten around Yukimura's shoulder, and Yanagi's shoulder droop, slightly but enough on him that it's slumping.

"You broke the rules, Yukimura," Atobe says, crossing his legs and swirling the glass of wine he holds. "You know what that means."

"I wasn't the first one to break the rules." Yukimura writhes on the bed, a never-ending struggle to be free; Oshitari's knots hold true.

"Traditions are not _rules_ ," Atobe says, almost spitting the word. "Ore-sama makes his own traditions."

Although still young, in high school, they are rich, powerful, bored, and sitting on top of the world. Atobe speaks only the truth.

Yukimura stops suddenly, letting his form fall limply on the bed. And he says nothing to that.

"Giving up, _Seiichi_?" Atobe asks and sets the glass aside, moves to the bed.

"Making my own traditions," Yukimura mocks.

"They're not supposed to leave marks," Yanagi mutters, and Yukimura can detect the anger in his voice.

"I broke the rules first," Yukimura tells him. There's a sound in his voice a lot like breaking glass, and it makes Yanagi pause for a moment, before he puts the ice pack against Yukimura's eye.

"They broke tradition-"

"But traditions are not rules." It's Sanada who speaks, echoing Atobe's words of the night before, although he doesn't know it.

"Both tradition and rules are meant to be broken," Yukimura murmurs, and the sound of breaking glass is the sound of glass hitting the floor, to Yanagi's ears. Something is broken, but he doesn't know what, and when he glances at Sanada, there's no answer there either.

Yukimura's a genius at putting himself back together. Yanagi relies on that, more than he realizes.

Yukimura pushes away his hand, pushes away the ice and smiles, this time with the edge of broken glass in his lips and his eyes.

"Akaya will be asked for again, soon. And there will be no protecting him from that."

"We should prepare him," Sanada says. It's what they've always done for their ace; they'll do no less.

"Prepare him in more ways than one," Yukimura agrees. "Who does he trust the most on the team?"

"You." Yanagi and Sanada speak together, without hesitation, because it's simply the truth.

"That is what I thought," he says. "We'll shorten practice, I'll use the little empty storage room we have."

"Use the room for what?" Yanagi asks; there's a thousand possibilities, and his mind is reeling with them - there's no definite answer he can predict.

"Akaya's still a virgin, right?"

"Of course." And slowly the light of comprehension dawns in Yanagi's mind, but he says nothing, until Yukimura tells them. He doesn't want to think about what this means.

"He won't be."

"But-" It's Sanada who protests, frowns and stares at Yukimura, understanding, but not. "Traditions-"

"Traditions are meant to be broken."

"Yukimura's acting ruthless. Is he pissed we can't defeat Hyoutei?" Niou asks the question of Yanagi, who is the most likely to know, and to answer. On the courts, Yukimura's a blaze of light, a shooting meteorite, a rushing waterfall, a desert oasis. There's a fire in him burning, but it's not burning itself out. On the tennis courts, like this, he can't burn out. It's an impossibility, Yanagi thinks.

He doesn't need to watch the match; none of them do. They know who will win, and the Seigaku side seems to be aware of that as well. Across from him, Inui nods in Yanagi's direction, lifts a hand in greeting.

Yanagi matches it, and turns to Niou.

"He's quite pleased with how Regionals turned out," Yanagi says. "You'll see."

He does, later.

"Make sure Hyoutei gets to the finals, in Nationals," Yukimura tells Yanagi, in front of the full team.

"That's breaking-" Kuwahara says, and stops when Yukimura turns to him. Yukimura is shirtless, like all of them; the first time he's been shirtless all day. None of them saw him change.

There's a whip lash on his chest, above his nipples.

"We have matches tomorrow," Yukimura says, and the entire room can feel the force of will it takes to keep him from screaming it at the courier.

"Atobe-sama said he knew." The courier gulps and glances away. He doesn't want to be there, in front of the entire team of Rikkaidai, who gather in the clubhouse, around their captain, leaning against the lockers, a show of solidarity. More than that, he thinks. A show of subtle, mind-bending force.

"I can go-" Kirihara speaks up, but he's cut off when Yukimura raises a hand. "Who is it for?"

"Shishido-sama," the courier says.

"And only him?"

"Yes."

Yukimura frowns at him, then lowers his hand. "Fine." He waits until the courier is gone before turning to Sanada and Yanagi. "We have to change the line up."

"They're not supposed to interfere with tennis," Marui says, and stares at the hastily written note from Akutagawa. Yanagi doesn't watch him, but Yukimura, and wonders how much superglue is holding the glass together, and now long before it breaks.

The final tournament is approaching: two more weeks and they will be crowned champions. But two weeks is fourteen days, and Yanagi isn't sure how long Yukimura can hold before snapping.

"It's gone from breaking traditions to breaking rules." Yagyuu speaks, who might be Niou, but Yanagi's not sure, not anymore, and not sure if he cares, and that's almost as scary a thought as Yukimura snapping.

"Rules are meant to be broken," Niou says.

"No." Yukimura smiles, and it's still sharp and too brittle, and Yanagi wonders when they'll see his real smile again. "Rules are meant to be redefined. You are going, Marui. He's at least decent."

In the corner, Kirihara shudders, and Sanada frowns.

"We'll win tomorrow." They gather in the clubhouse, that's almost a second home to them, waiting. Everyone there knows what they are waiting for.

"The line up has been decided," Yukimura continues. "Don't hold back."

Which translates into: do whatever it takes to win, pull out any tricks, hidden moves. Make sure they realize who is the best. _Win_.

There's no talk after that, because the courier arrives then, a different one this time than normal. It's straight to the point, like always.

"Atobe-sama and Oshitari-sama," he begins, and doesn't look at anyone in the face, but stares at the floor, "request the presence of Yukimura."

"Any marks?" Yanagi asks. On the courts, Marui and Jackal taunt Oshitari and Muhaki with no words, but actions. The score is in their favor. It's how it will always be.

"A thousand and one," Yukimura says, and Yanagi wonders if he refers to any physical marks or the nights they have all spent in rooms with the people they are facing.

"Atobe is in singles one."

"A poor opponent. But he will do." Yukimura stares across the courts at Atobe. Yanagi waits, impatiently, for Yukimura to reach the courts. All of them do. The games fly by, because they burn with anger and because they know what this means. Yanagi doesn't pay attention, but someone is recording it. He'll study it later.

Kirihara doesn't play, but there's no protest from him. He understands.

Yukimura stares across the courts at Atobe, and Yanagi thinks: he will either break or survive, and gets his answer when Yukimura serves.

The fire burns, hot enough to destroy everything, and from the fire, something new will be reborn.


End file.
